


these most powerful organic forces

by In_Flagrante_Delicto



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Gen, Jonathan Sims but another fear got him instead, Kid!Jon Sims, The Buried | Too Close I Cannot Breathe, The Web | The Spider
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:09:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21582037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Flagrante_Delicto/pseuds/In_Flagrante_Delicto
Summary: Jon is popular — all the fears have wanted a piece of him at one time or another. Here are the times where they succeed.(Chapter 1 has chapter summaries and warnings).
Comments: 6
Kudos: 60





	1. Index

1\. books put in double rows

The Buried | Too Close I Cannot Breathe  
warnings: claustrophobia, canon-typical child neglect  
Jon was often absorbed in his books.

2\. every continent except antarctica

The Web | The Spider  
warnings: arachnophobia, canon-typical child neglect  
You hyperfixate on spiders _one time_ as a child, and this is what you get.


	2. books put in double rows

Jon had a small room as a child. His grandmother gave him her son’s old room, but as he grew Jon realised he didn’t want to be compared to his late father, not at all, so he waited until his grandmother went out to the shops to move his things into a smaller room downstairs. His mattress (the bed frame was too heavy for the seven year old), his set of drawers, and his books.

Jon didn’t have many books at this point, but he knew he wanted more — he enjoyed reading, even though he knew he grandmother just wanted him to do something that wouldn’t mean the police had to escort him home, again. (Honestly, Jon thought, sneaking into abandoned building wasn’t a crime, not if they didn’t have big signs that said so. The police told him it was dangerous, that the floors could collapse and he could be trapped, but that had happened once, leaving Jon under a pile of debris. It wasn’t even that scary, more like a hug really. He only wiggled his way out when it got too dark for his grandmother to notice his absence).

Jon piled his books neatly on the edge of his room. The roof here was rather low (the reason Jon would give to his grandmother when she asked, exasperated, why he didn’t have his bed frame), and Jon almost had two full piles that reached the ceiling. He moved his drawer to the end of his bed so the wall on each side was clear for books. He wanted a cocoon of books — piled high on either side of him. 

Over the years, Jon accumulated books, and books, and books. Cheap ones, bought from charity stores for 50 pence; free books, given away because they were wrecked, or old, or unwanted, or simply because his grandmother’s friends had listened to her complain about her grandson’s reading habits. Some books were even stolen from libraries and classmates, though Jon wouldn’t admit it. (Jon never read A Guest For Mr. Spider. It was swallowed by the other books before he could even see its cover and judge it a baby’s book). 

By the time Jon is fifteen, books and papers and everything that can be stacked line the walls of his room. Books reach to the ceiling on either side of his bed, and his mattress stops him from opening the bottom drawer of his drawers. The drawers do not escape unscathed; in no time, the top is similarly piled to the ceiling, every inch of its surface covered. 

Soon enough, the only clear space is right in front of door, but only so Jon’s grandmother can open it. His bed is piled with blankets, duvets, pillows, whatever books he is reading, and the schoolwork he’s been assigned. The rest of his room is towering piles of books, newspapers and the kinds of things that should probably just be thrown away — junk mail, old bills, permission slips for excursions Jon couldn’t afford to go to. 

One night, Jon wakes up and finds that he is covered in books; the piles have fallen down on top of him. He shifts, tries to get his head above the books, into the cold air that rushes into his room under his door, but finds he can’t. The books move with him and there is no above. Only dirt, papers and the comforting weight of tight, squeezing hug. 

(His grandmother doesn’t notice for a week; they rarely spoke, and Jon spent most of his time holed up in his room. But when the school calls for the fifth time that week to ask about his absence, Jon’s grandmother opens his door to yell at him about the importance of an education, or she would have. The door opens onto dirt and books and paper.)


	3. every continent except antarctica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You hyperfixate on spiders _one time_ as a child and this is what you get.

Jon found that his interest in books withered and waned seemingly at random — one book would enthrall him for hours, keep him captivated until he turned the last page, while another book held so little interest for him that his eyes seemed to slide straight off the cover. Jon searched for explanations, understanding, and found that books from an author he had already read couldn’t hold his attention; they were too similar, he concluded.

Interests, however, did not follow this pattern: Jon easily became engrossed in a subject, as he did with spiders, starting with a book his grandmother gave to him aged seven. It was an old book, having belonged to his father as a child. Simple identification, catering to little boys who liked gross things, like slugs and worms, and cool things, like spiders and poisonous caterpillars. Jon read the book cover-to-cover, lingering over the professional photography and short blurb of each spider, thinking of the intricate webs he had seen on his adventures.

He stayed up late that night, re-reading the book by torchlight, reluctant to go to sleep lest he wake up uncaring. But when Jon woke up, he found that he still wanted to learn things about spiders, so he told the book and put on his joggers, creeping outside to see if he could find any of the spiders in his book. He only found one, a garden spider, but when he went back in for lunch, he told his grandmother all about it, and about how he wanted to study spiders when he grew up, _and the book says it's called arachnology, and I'd get to look at spiders all the time, even the ones from Australia!_ She nodded, and 'hm'ed at all the right times, but didn't really seem interested.

Jon frowned, some unnameable thing in his chest pinching, but he got more books about spiders so he tried to brush it off. When he got _A Guest For Mr Spider_ , he almost dismissed it. It was a kids' book, but it was also about spiders, and Jon thought it might be fun to try and figure out what type of spider it was supposed to be, so he flipped open the cover. "From the Library of Jurgen Leitner" the nameplate read, and then Jon was enthralled.

The door opened and an eight-eyed face looked down at Jon. The spider was massive, far bigger than any of the spiders in any of his books, and Jon thought of arachnology, and a whole new species, and how _connected_ he could become if he discovered a whole new spider.

"Hello," he said, and Mr. Spider welcomed him in.


End file.
